‘Ya know yer a hill-billy when…’

So. Son thinks his folks are hill-billies (which he equates with being cheap, I might add). And he calls [one of us in particular, and it’s not me…] this over and over. And as a dear friend said to me tonight, I guess we could be called worse names. However, I guess the jokes on him.

Two times over, I might add.

This morning, he decided that he was NOT taking/eating the gross and extremely cheap Hot Stuff pepperoni pizza pockets for school lunch that I had bought (for the bargain basement price of one dollar…cha-ching, baby!). So he then took it upon himself to look up his junior high school’s website to peruse the lunch menu plan for the week. He ‘googled’ it and waited for results. Then he started to shout out to his ‘hill-billy daddy’ in the kitchen that the website had changed. The mascot was different. The school looked different. And the lunch menu prices were exorbitant (That last one was my word, not his. But still…) Anyhoo, he was going on and on and on about all the changes to the school website when ‘my hill-billy hubby Brian’ decided to take it upon himself to adopt a country twang and saunter on off to the computer room to see what all the fuss was ABOUT.”

Come to find out Son had looked up a Hernewood Junior High School in some far off place in the United States, and it was his own MIS-SPELLING that caused the error. ‘Pays to listen to yer elders, sonny. Especially when thur’ learning ya somethin’ in school there about spellins’ and words and such’.

Then, Son showed his true country charm when at supper time, and again AFTER HAVING CALLED US HILL-BILLIES THIS MORNING, he came out to the kitchen and asked his DAD, “Why do people buy wood-splitting machines when they can just chop the tree down themselves? Are they lazy or what?”

To which I say, ‘ya know yer a red-neck when…’ you care enough to form an opinion about wood-splitting machines.

I rest my case. I still love ‘im. He’s the apple of my eye. But if I’m a hill-billy…so is he!